Black Dress Wedding

Chapter 13

You can run from your past, but it will haunt you. I knew this as I arrived at the lakeside venue of Jake Miller's wedding. It would have been comical if it hadn't been so painful. A part of me died each day since we had walked away from each other. All along, I had believed that time would bring us back to each other.

It was raining the day the envelope arrived. I loved rainy spring days on the lake. The way the drops splashed off the surface of the lake and the earthy smell of the mud. But on that day, it was like the lake was crying. I stared down at the envelope splattered with raindrops. I was cordially invited to the wedding of Jake Miller and Denise Kress.

And then the big day arrived, and I was slipping into a black dress. I wanted to be happy for him, for his easy and comfortable love. I wanted to wish him the best and not let him see my heart dying. I wanted to, but it was Jake; I couldn't hide from him. I had never been able to hide from him.

I sat in the back of the ceremony. I couldn't let him see me. When the I-do's were exchanged, I held my breath and told myself that I was one step closer. I was grateful to see my reception seat in the back. Our gazes wouldn't absently fall to each other. The newlyweds arrived at the reception to happy cheers, and another piece of me crumbled. But again, I was one step further away.

And then the music started. I could slip away. I didn't need to inflict any more pain on myself. I was nearly there, one step from the door when he cut between the exit and me.

"Hello, Nif." His voice was cruel in its similarity to my love's voice.

I took a deep breath and turned to see this stranger in Jake's body. "Hello, Jake. Congratulations."

"May I trouble you for a dance?" For the slightest of moments, my Jake was there. His hand was reaching out to me as I tumbled to the ground from that treehouse. But then he was gone, and I was staring at a man in a tux.

"Of course," I gave a false smile as I accepted his hand.

As his fingers gripped my hips, he whispered, "every moment, every breath."

"Even when it's hard," I breathed.

"This is our last dance, Nifer," he murmured in a low voice that barely made it through the band music to my ear.

I rested my head on his shoulder to quell the tears forming in my eyes before managing, "then make it the best dance, my love."

The music soared around us, and for a few last moments, he was mine, and we were lost in each other. The clock's seconds ticked by to the drums' steady rhythm as he spun me in his arms. I closed my eyes and allowed myself one brief moment to memorize the feeling of his warmth pressing into me, the smell of his musk filling my nose, and the sound of my heartbeat screaming out to him.

But as quickly as it started, the song came to an end. I wanted him to cling to me. I wanted this story to be different. I wanted to be wearing the white dress. But as he reluctantly pulled me from his chest, I caught a glimpse of my black dress; black, the color of mourning.

I met his eyes, and for a moment, I thought he would allow his forehead to slip to mine. His peppermint ladened breath would course over my face, and the dark hair that always carelessly fell into his eyes would tickle me. But he resisted, as he should. He lifted my hand and gave it one last lingering kiss before turning to the arms of his waiting bride.

Jake Miller was gone.